


Six Seeds

by NTonks



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Based off Greek Mythology, Descriptions of Emotional/Mental Abuse, Dorian Makes Dumb Decisions Because He's Insecure AF, Fluff and Angst, Going To Try For More Fluff Than Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), References to Drugs, Sexual Content, There Will Be Angst Though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6770170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NTonks/pseuds/NTonks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Incredibly loose retelling of the story of Hades and Persephone. Cullen is curious to learn more about Dorian, Lord of the Dead. Dorian starts to fall in love with the visitor to his realm, and fears he will lose Cullen if he lets him leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is based (somewhat loosely) off the story of Hades and Persephone. It will be nowhere near as sketchy and non-consensual as the original, because I cannot, nor do I want to write that. However, there will be some dubious behavior, and I will make sure to update the tags appropriately and give warning when that chapter comes up. Overall though, this is going to be much happier and fluffier than the original!

Thedas was a good land to live in, the Rutherfords made sure of that. They kept the sun as bright as their blonde hair, the harvest as bountiful as their smiles, and even the coldest, darkest days of winter had a sense of care and love to them. The Maker had given them control over the weather and plants of the land, and they made sure to keep both in good care to support the humans of the land. 

Mia, the eldest, controlled the nurturing rains of spring, coaxing things into growth with a gentle hand. The youngest, Rosalie, followed in her sister’s footsteps with the wild heat of summer, encouraging people to forget their duties and slip off for dip in lake somewhere. Cullen, the older of the two brothers, brought order back after his baby sister’s reign, keeping watch over the harvest season and making sure the first frosts hit at the right time. Next in line, both in age and season, came Bran with the winter storms, his ever-changeable moods causing a flurry perfect for a snowball fight one day followed the next by a blizzard that prevented people from leaving their homes. The four siblings balanced each other out, and kept each other in check, giving support and guidance when it wasn’t their season, and loving the world and people in their care.

This went on unchanged, until the day one Rutherford met the Lord of the Dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cullen sat on the wooden dock, dipping his feet into the cool water of the pond. The thunder in the distance had almost died out, and the humidity was letting up. Mia must have finally calmed down Rosalie. Cullen has felt guilty for walking out and leaving her to handle the two youngest siblings and their latest row, but he really wasn’t doing anything to help. 

He didn’t see why it mattered that the mountain kept snow on its peak even in summer. It was only the faintest dusting, and it was impossible to make it stay a temperature that qualified as warm up there anyway. Rosie, however, took it as Bran somehow being disrespectful to her season, and actually managed to send a heat-flash over the whole mountain. Which made him go on a full-out rant about how damaging it was to the plants of the mountain, which then caused a cold-snap.

All the rapid jumping and falling of temperatures had caused the air pressure to rise, and the storms to brew, and Cullen had finally walked out when the first thunder rolled because his head just couldn’t handle it anymore. As much work as it was running his own season, he honestly preferred it to trying to keep his unpredictable younger siblings in line on theirs. 

Suddenly, a loud rustling sounds from the trees, and a figure bursts into view, panting heavily. Cullen jumps to his feet and runs over as he sees blood seeping between the hands the man clutched to his torso. He gets there just in time to catch the man as he falls to his knees.

“What happened?!” he asks urgently, tearing off his shirt and pressing it over the wound to try and stem the bleeding.

“W-wolves,” the man gasps, “Normally don’t attack like this. S-something’s wrong with them. I killed them, but...it was too late.”

“I’m not much good at healing, but I’m going to do what I can.”

“I wouldn’t waste the effort,” an urbane voice comments from behind Cullen.

He turns to see a tall mustachioed man in tight-fitted black robes standing, inspecting his nails with a disaffected air.

“What do you mean? How could you say something like that!” 

The man sighs, rolling his eyes, “His fate is sealed. You can try as hard as you like to save him, but all you would be doing is wasting my time and yours. He’s dead, I’m here to collect the soul, and as delicious as it would be to watch you work while shirtless, I really do not have all day, so if you don’t mind.”

He makes a shooing motion with his hand.

Cullen looks between the two men as the implication of the words sink in.

“You’re the Lord of the Dead?”

“Dorian Pavus, at your service,” the god quips with a smirk and an elaborate bow, “Though, as you’re clearly an immortal, my normal services don’t actually apply.”

“Yes, I’m immortal!” Cullen exclaims, a plan forming, “Take some of my immortality and give it to him! He doesn’t have to die!”

Dorian sighs, rolling his eyes, “It doesn’t work like that. This is not like a monetary debt, that you can just pay for him because you have more life than he does. His time is up, I can’t change that. All I am here to do is collect. Besides, even if I could give him some of your life force, it wouldn’t save him. He wouldn’t go back to the state he was in before the wolf attack. He would be an undead, a genlock or hurlock. His guts would still be spilling out, his body decomposing, and he would have to consume human flesh to sustain the borrowed life force in him. He’s not meant to stay in the mortal realm. Not to mention that I don’t even know what trying to...let someone borrow your immortality would do to you. Potentially make you mortal, if it could even be done.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. This is why amateurs shouldn’t meddle in the affairs of death. It always ends badly and messily. Why do you even care?” Dorian inquires, leaning against his staff “You had never even met this man before now. He means nothing to you, so why does his death matter?”

“I...I suppose it goes against my nature. I work to ensure that the humans have enough food to live out as long of lives as they are given. It’s...distressing to see one end. To know that he is now doomed to suffer in the Underworld, and I could do nothing to stop it.”

“Suffer!” Dorian splutters indignantly, “Suffer! Typical! You ignorant barbarians! You have no idea what I do for the mortals, how necessary my work is to sustaining life in this muddy, awful place! No, instead they all just treat death as some sort of horrible punishment to avoid for as long as possible, and you lot! The gods are supposed to work as a team, but instead you all avoid me as some sort of pariah! You didn’t even recognize me, you have no idea what the Underworld is actually like, and you would rather try to bargain for some strange human’s life than support me on the fact that this is how the cycle is supposed to work! You, being the damned God of the Harvest. Your whole blighted season is about the relationship between life and death!”

Cullen is roughly shoved away from the body by Dorian, the god still muttering under his breath. 

The Lord of Death leans down over the human. He takes a deep breath, and tries to relax his face into something less intimidating than an angry scowl.

“Are you ready?”

“Will it hurt?” the man asks, fearfully.

“Not at all,” Dorain replies with a devious grin, “In fact, I can make it quite enjoyable for you, if you’d like.”

Cullen stares, mouth agape as Dorian puts his mouth on the man’s and...was he kissing him? Dorian seems to give a whole new meaning to the term “soul stealing kiss” as he slowly moves back, the bright, shining form of the man’s soul following him out of the now-dead body. Dorian separates from the soul once it is completely removed, and opens a leather pouch at his side that seems to suck the soul in.

“Not so torturous, wouldn’t you say?”

“Ah…” Cullen coughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, “No, I suppose not. I was apparently misinformed.”

“Indeed,” he says with a haughty sniff, “I shudder to think what other awful lies about my work and my realm you’ve come to believe.”

“Perhaps I could come with you,” Cullen ventures, “See it all for myself so I know the truth. I could come back and try to correct everyone’s beliefs.”

Dorian seems to be in shock, because for an almost uncomfortably long time, he says nothing, simply staring at Cullen as if trying to understand the words that just came from his mouth.

“You. Want to come with me. To the Underworld. To...just...see it? Not to try and steal something for a quest, or liberate the poor damned souls, or something like that?”

“Yes. I want to see what it’s really like, since you claim the idea I have of it is all wrong.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! Maker’s sake, is that so hard to believe?”

“Well, frankly yes, as it goes against everything everyone has ever done in the past. I suppose I can bring you with me, as long as you promise not to touch anything without asking me first. Just because it’s not an awful place of punishment and misery doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous to outsiders.”

He turns and uses his staff to draw a doorway in the air. Behind it, the earth cracks open, and a set of stairs form in the pit, leading down into the Underworld. Cullen takes a long breath to steady himself, and follows the Lord of Death into his realm.


	2. The Ferry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you for the kudos that have been left! It means so much for me to see them! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Dorian looks back over his shoulder as they descend fully into the Underworld. He smirks at the clear look of astonishment on the blonde man’s face. 

“Not what you were expecting?”

“It’s...warm, and bright. I always thought of death as dark and cold.”

“Oh dear me, no,” Dorian looks around in satisfaction at his kingdom. While the stone of the Underworld was black, it was laced through with intricate veins of fire that leant a warm glow to all it touched. Overhead, the floating star flowers cast a soft blue glow to the ‘sky’ of his realm.

“No, I think you’re mistaking lands for that awful place your mortals call Fereldan in the winter. Now that would be torture if that was the afterlife. No. Perhaps the stone is a bit dark, but we have our sources of light.”

“Now, time for our friend to come out,” he opens his pouch, and the shadowy spirit floats up, and settles on his feet in front of them.

“Hello my good man, welcome to the Underworld. I’m going to be guiding you along myself, so our guest here can see how things work. You should feel honored, normally I only get this involved with particularly interesting heroes. Now, what is your name my good sir?”

“Dennet.”

“Excellent. Well, as you know, I am Dorian, Lord of the Dead, and this here is...oh dear. Which one are you again? I can never keep your actual names straight, I just think of you all by season.”

To Dorian’s delight, the god chuckles at this, rather than taking offense.

“Cullen, God of Harvestime. A pleasure to officially make both your acquaintances.”

“Well, aren’t you just a model of manners. So nice to meet a upperworld god with tact. Now that we’re all bosom friends, we should be moving along. Dennet, I don’t suppose you had the forethought to be carrying gold on your person when you went out to be slaughtered by wolves?”

The spirit checked where his pockets would be, and pulls a gold piece out of thin air.

“So good to finally see someone who plans ahead. Cullen, I’ll pay for your passage, as you are a guest. Adan is not one to let a little thing like godhood change the rules for the ferry,” Dorian snaps his fingers, causing them to spark with a flame, that turns into a gold coin. He hands it over to a gaping Cullen.

They walk up to shore of a glowing blue river, walking through crowds milling about with no clear purpose.

“Who are these people?” Cullen asks in a hushed tone.

“Those who died without payment on them. They can’t pay to take the ferry across, to get to their fated afterlife, so they are simply stuck here. Of course, there are some who committed terrible crimes, and are staying here to try and avoid the punishment waiting for them,” Dorian reaches out a grabs the arm of a spirit attempting to slink by. He can feel his eyes glowing in hatred as he looks at the man, and Horror changing his appearance to the mortal.

“Such as you! Livius Erimond, did you really think you could hide among the stranded here and I wouldn’t know? You’ve been dead for over an Age, and still trying to avoid your punishment. What a coward. This is the boastful man who thought he could teamed himself with the monster Corypheus, thinking he could outsmart the gods. The man who caused the death and corruption of hundreds of Wardens. Your time hiding like a rat is over, Erimond. I am taking you on the ferry with us.”

“No! No! Please, I was tricked! It was all Corypheus! Allow my spirit to be reborn, I will atone in my next life!”

Dorian smiles cruelly, and he knows this is not helping to show Cullen that there is nothing to fear from death, but a glance at the man’s face and it is clear he feels no pity for Erimond. The man is stone-faced and scowling, looking as if he’d like to help bring Erimond to whatever fate awaited him.

“Why, Livius, you know that’s not up to me. I only collect the dead and keep things running smoothly here. Your fate is up to the Inquisitor.”

With that, he drags Erimond forward to the ferry, allowing sparks to fall from his robe and turn to gold for some of the other stranded to use to cross. As they draw up to the ferry, Adan gives a put-upon sigh as he looks past them to the scrambling spirits trying to grab up the coins.

“For the Maker’s sake, m’lord, you know that they are only supposed to cross if they was buried with the coin.”

Dorian waves the objection aside, “It’s getting too crowded Adan, we can’t have them just milling about for all eternity. Besides, it’s real coin, just as good as if they were buried. You know that, so you can’t have any complaint about the payment. Not that I’ll ever understand what you do with it once you have it. It’s not like you take time off to go spend it somewhere.”

“None of your damn business. I do my job, and that’s all you need to know.”

“Charming as ever,” Dorian remarked, climbing into the boat, “Well, four to go across. Drop us at the Inquisitorial Hall.”

A few more moments of grumbling, and Adar set off along the blue river. Cullen takes a seat next to Dorian in the boat, and after a moment’s awkward silence, Dorian’s resolve breaks.

“Alright, you’re clearly wanting to ask me something. Get on with it before the question kills you despite your immortality. I don’t want to know what sort of trouble that would get me into.”

“You dropped coins back there, why?”

“Are you deaf? I just told Adan. It was getting too crowded. My job is to make sure things down here function the way they are supposed to, that the dead get where they are meant to be. That doesn’t work if I have a bunch of spirits standing around uselessly on the shore unable to cross.”

“That can’t be the only reason,” Cullen argues, “There has to be something else other than bend the rules and pay for them yourself if that was the only reason.”

Dorian sighs impatiently. He wants to just brush off the whole question, make a joke like he does when Merrill asks him about it. Instead, he finds himself telling the truth despite his better judgement, “It’s not their fault, most of them. Many times the spirits stuck there are ones who were too poor to have a gold coin to be buried with, or the relatives who buried them took to coin before the spirit passed on. There are many reasons why they might not have payment, and it seems wrong for them to never be able to move on to rest just because of circumstance. I can’t allow them all over on charity, especially not all at once as the logistics would be a nightmare. Still, I try to go and drop payment for a few every once in awhile, just to get the spirits through.”

He does his best to keep his tone bland and off-hand, but he can’t look over at the other god, so the gentle hand on his arm causes him to flinch slightly in surprise.

“That’s very kind of you, Dorian,” Cullen tells him softly, before asking another question.

“Who is this Inquisitor? I thought you were in charge of the dead?”

“Well, I am, but I can’t be expected to do all the work myself, now can I? The Inquisitor is the goddess Adaar. She judges the actions of a person’s mortal life, and decides where they will go in the afterlife. If they are sent to the Fields of Punishment, she decides how they will be punished. In addition to her...there is Morrigan and her mother Flemeth, the goddesses of witchcraft. Leliana, leader of the Furies, who sends her crows out to avenge unnatural crimes committed by mortals. Wynne is the guardian of the Doors of Death, making sure nothing gets out into the mortal realm that is supposed to stay here. Merrill is...well I normally send her out to collect spirits, rather than doing it myself. She enjoys spending time in the mortal realm more than me, and people often find her a more comforting figure to lead them to the Underworld. Apparently I can be intimidating.”

“I can’t imagine who would think that,” Cullen says sarcastically.

The boat draws up to a dock, and Adan gruffly tells them to get out. Cullen and Dorian work together to pull Erimond from the boat, and up the steps leading to the grand double doors of the Hall of the Inquisitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adan = Charon, the Ferryman across the river Styx
> 
> Adaar = a combination of Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Abacus, the Judges of the Underworld. They each were in charge of a different geographical group of men to judge, and chose if you went to the Fields of Punishment (bad people), the Fields of Asphodel (normal people), or Elysium (heroes). 
> 
> Leliana = the Furies, who punished crimes against nature. I will not be making her into a creepy bird-woman like the originals
> 
> Morrigan and Flemish = Hecate, goddess of witchcraft who for some reason seems to be part of the Underworld sub-pantheon, so I included them
> 
> Wynne = Thanatos, who guarded the Doors of Death, and I'm basing most of my knowledge of his job from the Percy Jackson books because he doesn't do much in the original myths
> 
> Merrill = sort of Thanatos, sort of Hermes. In the original myths, Hermes was the one who escorted people's spirits to the Underworld, but I decided that should be a full-time job for someone.
> 
> I will also say that I'm expanding on what Hades did as God of the Dead, and making Dorian a bit more hands-on because otherwise it would be a much more boring story. Most of the time in the myths, Hades really only got involved if someone was trying to take something (or someone) out of the Underworld. In modern stories, he's mainly shown scheming against Zeus, and neither of those presentations of him worked particularly well for this story.


	3. Judgement and the Rivers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to briefly meet a few more gods, and I think the world building is finally completed so we can get on to more plot in the future!!!
> 
> By the way, while I do mention Corypheus in here, he is totally irrelevant to this story, and I just through him and Erimond in so the Inquisitor could have a more interesting scene.

Cullen was taken aback by the sheer size of the Inquisitorial Hall. The whole structure was clearly designed to intimidate, with large pillars carved from the black Underworld stone, fires lit in sconces positioned to throw long shadows. Intimidating as the Hall was, it would have been an effort gone to waste if not for the Inquisitor. She loomed over the Hall in a throne that seemed to be carved from the jawbone of a dragon, slouched in the chair in a posture that radiated impatience and boredom.

“Adaar, lovely to see you my dear!” Dorian called out, and Cullen was surprised to see how a smile could transform the horned woman’s face. While she was still frightening, he no longer felt personally threatened.

Adaar stood and stepped down the dias to come hug Dorian, and Cullen could see the dark-haired god wince at the strength of the hug.

“Dorian, it’s been too long since you came here to visit me. I was ready to send Leliana to go hunt you down.”

“That is not a threat to make in jest, Adaar,” Dorian scolds, affecting a shudder, “You know how much those birds of hers terrify me. Their eyes are wrong. I can’t tell you how, and I’ve been trying for centuries to put it into words, but they are just wrong.”

Cullen stifles a chuckle as a large black bird lands on Dorian’s shoulder. The god flails in panic, batting at the bird.

“Leliana!!!!” he hisses.

“What was that you were saying about my pets?” a slim, red-haired woman wearing a large hood asks, stepping out from a shadowed corner, “I think you need to take a closer look at their eyes.”

Cullen almost steps forward to help, before he catches the devious smile on the woman’s lips as she holds up her hand to call the crow off Dorian’s shoulder.

“Yes, yes, so glad you can take sick amusement at the expense of my existential terror.”

Adaar threw back her head in a hearty laugh, before moving back to her throne.

“Alright, so who do we have with you? The blonde is glowing, so he’s clearly an immortal. Can’t do much for you there, Dori.”

“Dori?” Cullen can’t help but ask, amused.

“Ugh, completely ruining my image,” Dorian pouts at the Inquisitor, “The glowing one is just a guest, he’s not to be judged. These two are, and Leliana will probably have testimony on this one.”

He gestures at Erimond.

“Yes, I do. I also received word that Josephine will be joining us to speak on behalf of Lord Alistair.”

“My, my,” Dorian sign-songs at Erimond, “You even managed to upset the leader of the gods. Quite an accomplishment. Well, since you said Josephine’s name, she should be here in three...two…”

A side door flew open, and the Goddess of Communication and Diplomacy came bustling in, sorting through a sheaf of papers on a clipboard.

“Right on cue, as always Josie!” Dorian greets, walking over to trade cheek kisses with the new arrival.

“My Lord Dorian, it is always a pleasure” she greets, then spots Cullen, “Cullen, Commander of the Harvest? What are you doing here?”

“Commander of the Harvest?” Dorian chuckles, “Do you order the sheaves of wheat to attack?”

“Cullen rolls his eyes, walking over properly greet Josephine, “I’m just here visiting briefly. I’ll return to the mortal realm in a few days, at latest.”

“Very well. I will inform Lord Alistair of your whereabouts. He had in fact asked me to schedule a hunting trip with you, at your earliest convenience. We can discuss the details after the trial.”

“Speaking of which, if we could get things started now that everyone is here?” Adaar asks, pointedly, “Thank you. Josie, if you could read the charges?”

Leliana passes over the notes she had prepared.

“I submit Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, who served under the accursed Corypheus in his attempt to obtain godhood, stopped by the intervention of the gods and the actions of you yourself. This has been declared an official attack on the stability of the peace and the order of the world by Lady Nightingale. Despite passing to the Underworld, he has offered extreme resistance, refusing to cross the River. Likely because he knows that the Order of the Gods will call for punishment, in many colorful terms, to say nothing of the justice you might personally require for the suffering you underwent.”

“I’m struggling to understand how judging you could make up for anything that happened,” Adaar comments, bringing her hands together, “Although I am willing to carry out your punishment myself, there is a group you have wronged more than any. Livius Erimond, the Wardens can have you on the Fields of Punishment. They will do as they will with you until your spirit expires into the Fade. You know your supposed god Corypheus died, you will pay for your crimes at last, and no one will prevent it.”

Erimond hangs his head, silent as he is led from the hall. Dennet is brought forward. Adaar looks down as a glowing roll of parchment appears in her hand.

“Dennet Hobard. It states here that you are a horsemaster. You have always treated your animals well. You worked hard to protect your stablehands, wife, and daughter, and trained them to be self-sufficient. You died attempting to hunt possessed wolves that were plaguing your land. You lived a noble life, and died a noble death. I grant you access to the Rivers Lyrium. You may choose to either reflect on the actions of your life, or forget them before your spirit passes into the Fade and is renewed to a new form.”

Dennet bows low and thanks the Inquisitor. 

Cullen leans over and whispers to Dorian, “The Rivers Lyrium?”

“I’ll show you. Go arrange your hunting trip with Josephine, and meet me outside those doors there,” he points to the far side of the hall, and then walks off.

Cullen quickly set things up with Josephine to meet Lord Alistair in the Hissing Wastes in a week to go dragon-hunting. It seems to him that this will give him more than enough time to get his fill of the Underworld and return.

He then exits the hall to find Dorian and Dennet standing in a fork between two rivers, one glowing blue, and one glowing red.

“The Rivers Lyrium,” Dorian calls out to him, gesturing, “The waters that flow through the Underworld, and take the spirits of mortals before they return to the Fade. The Red Lyrium provides reflection and examination of the actions you took in life, the Blue Lyrium allows you to forget. Mortals choose based on how they lived their life, and if there are things they want to try and take into the next life their spirit lives, or if they want to ensure they remember nothing.”

“We have lyrium, in the mortal world, though it is normally found as crystals, not liquid,” Cullen kneels down next to the blue river, examining the flowing waters curiously, seeing the shadow-like shapes of spirits moving below the surface.

“Yes. Foolish mortals will come down and steal the waters of the rivers to take back to the mortal realm, where it turns into solid crystal. They believe it will give them powers of strength and magic, which it does, but they never consider the cost. Lyrium is not meant to be consumed by living mortals, and it robs them of their sanity. Red lyrium overheats their minds, making them run mad with thoughts and remembrances unbearable to the living. Blue lyrium cools their brains, turning it sluggish, dull, and forgetful. I warn the mortals who come to take the waters, every time, but they never listen. Instead they prefer to believe that I simply do not wish to share the great powers of the waters, and spin false tales in an effort to frighten them off.”

Cullen leans closer to the river, not realizing what he is doing until he feels Dorian’s hand pull him back.

“I would not go so close. While the waters would not harm you the way they would a mortal, they still are not safe. They can be addictive, to those who are unused to them, and while you would not go mad, they could still rob you of memories and temporarily dull your brain. We should come away.”

Cullen shakes his head to try and clear it of the foggy feeling that has crept up from the fumes of the river.

“Yes, I think that would be wise. Thank you.”

Cullen is surprised when Dorian does not then remove his hand, but simply lets it slide from his shoulder down to the middle of his back. They bid farewell to Dennet, leaving him to make his choice of river, and start walking to Dorian’s palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am putting Alistair in as a Zeus-like head god figure, probably Lord of the Sky (not sure if I trust him with thunderbolts though). I feel like he avoids actually doing serious ruling as much as possible in favor of going around hunting monsters with other gods he's friends with (Cullen being a first choice).
> 
> Josephine is Goddess of Communication and Diplomacy because of course she is, and if she was ever to go missing or stop working, the entire world would fall to pieces in minutes because she is the one really keeping the show running. Also, if anyone, god or mortal, ever insults her, Leliana will definitely send her creepy birds after that person and make their life hell.


	4. Chess and Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No shame total stealing of the chess scene dialogue because I love it and find the banter too cute to bother trying to replace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took forever to get out. It was a crazy week at work, and I've really only just today found the energy to write. However, I am happy to announce that feelings are starting to happen between the boys!
> 
> I have gotten some comments that are so unbelievably sweet they honestly made me blush. Thank you so much, it means the world to me and helps keep me writing.

Dorian walked toward his palace, and smiled at the sight of it. He enjoyed the novelty trips to the mortal realm provided him. It was always entertaining to see the latest developments the mortals had made, and to get a change in scenery. Still, there was no place quite like home. 

“Very grand,” Cullen observed, staring at the bone-white columns and red tiled roof, “Very...Tevinter looking.”

“I am the patron god of Minrathos, the relationship is mutually inspiring when it comes to art and architecture.”

“Really? I would have thought you’d lean more towards Nevarran styles, given their whole obsession with death.”

Dorian leveled Cullen with a flat look.

“Their moronic mortalitasi priests steal spirits from my realm, dragging them back into the mortal world. Do you know what agony that is for the spirits? How pained and warped they are when they finally return to me? It is unnatural, and they spend every second in the mortal world tormented for being where they do not belong. Those people know nothing of death for they seek to control it, rather than respect it.”

“Oh...I,” Cullen pulls away from him, stuttering awkwardly, “I’m sorry. I suppose I never really thought of it that way…”

Dorian lets him stew for a moment, before brushing a casual hand through the air to put the matter to rest.

“Besides, using an architecture style celebrating death when you are Lord of the Underworld would be rather heavy-handed and gauche. I leave the obvious symbolism to you gods who have to make things more obvious for the poor mortals,” he flicked at the brooch on Cullen’s cape, shaped like a sheaf of wheat.

He walked down the path past the fountain, bubbling with the blue waters of the Lyrium, to the main entry. A wave of his hand opened the doors, and he smiled at the impressed gasp he heard from Cullen behind him. Really, this Commander of the Harvest was far too easy to impress. The Rutherfords must not use their powers for anything outside their godly duties if simple door opening provoked that sort of response. The innocence was strangely endearing on the god, rather than irritating, promoting a desire to show off more rather than scoff at the man’s ignorance. 

A shade spirit came floating up, and Dorian quickly gave instructions for a room to be prepared for Cullen, and safe food to be procured and brought to his private loggia. He then started off towards his suites, allowing Cullen to trail behind.

“Safe food?” the man asked as they walked.

“Yes. Foods grown here in the Underworld are not safe for mortals to consume,” Dorian replies, moving through his chambers to his wardrobe to find something more comfortable to change into, “The soil and the waters of the Lyrium provide sustenance. Those who consume them become dependant, addicted to them, and cannot then leave the Underworld. Again, as a god, you would not succumb the way a mortal would, but the effects could still be unpleasant.”

He pulls out a white and grey linen shirt, with one sleeve, a high collar, and a complex series of belts and sashes to hold it in place. He holds it up for Cullen to see.

“What do you think?”

“It looks more like a puzzle than a piece of clothing, but I fail to see why you are asking my opinion of it.”

Dorian rolls his eyes, taking the shirt and a pair of tight black leggings over to the bed to lay down so he can change. He starts undoing the buckles on his current clothes, prompting a startled yelp from his companion.

“What are you doing?!”

“Changing,” Dorian answers, raising an eyebrow and smirking, “Is it not clear?”

“Well, you could have warned me so I had time to leave the room!” Cullen complains, holding a hand over his eye and walking out to the sitting room.

“And deprive you of the chance to observe the work of beauty that is my body? My good man, I may be Lord of the Underworld, but I am not a monster,” Dorian calls out, chuckling as he changes.

“Well, I can see that modesty is not one of the traits you gifted the mortals.”

“So very droll, Commander. You may come back now, I am no longer a threat to your virtue.”

Dorian hears Cullen mutter something under his breath as he walks back in, but only catches the last word “think.”

“So, you were saying before that I can’t eat the food here?”

“Yes. Lucky for you, I do keep a stock of food and drink that is safe for visitors to consume. Josephine is kind enough to bring supplies when she comes. I personally don’t find the taste as appealing, but it is good to be prepared for the rare occasion I have guests.”

A knock at the door, and a shade spirit floats in a with a tray carrying wine, fruit, and cheeses. It moves out to the small, covered patio that opens off of Dorian’s bedroom.

“Excellent. Do you play chess, Commander? It has been ages since I’ve had someone talented to play against.”

“I do, in fact,” Cullen says, smiling eagerly, “It’s been some time, actually. My siblings and I all play, but Alistair actually banned us from playing each other about two years ago after I got in a fight with my sister Mia over a match.”

“Why do I feel like there’s more to this story?”

Cullen looked down and rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture that Dorian found unreasonably delightful.

“The fight...might have caused a flood, and that flood might have possibly destroyed most of the village of Crestwood.”

Dorian bursts out laughing, and walks over to a cabinet to bring out his chess set.

“Oh dear. Well, I believe you are safe to let your competitive streak run free here, Commander. The Rivers Lyrium will not respond to your powers, and you are far enough from the mortal realm that there should be no risk of floods.”

“Good to know,” Cullen says dryly, and starts pouring the wine.

An hour later, Adaar walks in from Dorian’s room.

“Gloat all you like, I have this one.”

“Are you sassing me, Commander?” Dorian asks, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Why do I even—”

“Inquisitor!” Dorian exclaims, starting to jump up from the table.

“Leaving are you? Does that mean I win?”

Dorian sits back down, glaring with mock severity, “Hardly, and it is unworthy of you to take the invasion of my home as a cheap opportunity to take the game.”

“Are you two playing nice?” Adaar asks, a laugh in her voice.

“I’m always nice,” Dorian answers primly, “What are you doing here?”

“Just came to see how you were treating our guest. I figured I would find you back here. You know, you wouldn’t have these ‘invasions’ if you used your main courtyard.”

“You and Leliana are the only two rude enough to come through my rooms without first asking to be announced. Besides, if I sat there, I would never get a moment to myself. Everybody walking through, and no ability to practice the noble tactic of pretending not to be home.”

Dorian moves his queen, and tells Cullen, “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory, you’ll feel much better.”

“Really?” Cullen laughs, capturing Dorian’s king, “Because I just won, and I feel fine.”

Dorian scowls, “Don’t get smug, they’ll be no living with you.”

Adaar laughs, “Oh, it is good to see someone finally beat you, Dorian. From now on, I’m refusing to play against you and sending you to Cullen when you get bored. Cullen, I was asked by Josie to pass on the message that she confirmed with Alistair, and next week will work for your hunt. I’ve been put in charge of directing you to the Hissing Wastes from here, if you haven’t already returned by then.”

“Thank you, you didn’t need to go to the trouble of delivering the message yourself.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Adaar reassures, “We rarely get good company down here, it’s nice to see a new face. Besides, Dorian’s been promising me a Dawn Lotus for ages now, and keeps forgetting to deliver it. I’ve lost patience, and decided to come take some myself.”

Dorian jumps out of his chair fully this time, “You are not taking anything from my gardens unsupervised! Last time you somehow managed to uproot an entire bed of Prophet’s Laurel. That planter still looks patchy! Knowing you, all the water in the fountain will end up in puddles on the walkway by the time you’re done.”

“Fine. You can do it, but I’m not leaving until I get my plant.”

Dorian sighs, “Stubborn woman. Very well, come along.”

He leads then to the main courtyard, and walks over to a fountain in the center, filled with white, black, and red lotus flowers. He kneels on the edge of the fountain and dips his hand in the water. Around one of the white lotuses, water begins to rise. It forms a bowl shape around the flower, with water flowing to also fill the center of the bowl.. Soil from the bottom of the fountain is brought up with the roots of the plant, and water bowl solidifies into glass. It floats over to Dorian, and he hands it to Adaar.

“There, no plants harmed.”

“That was amazing.”

Dorian looks back, and sees Cullen staring in awe.

“It’s actually a rather simple spell, but...thank you,” he replies, tentatively, not quite sure what to think of the compliment. He notices that Cullen was standing next to a planter filled with Crystal Grace, fingers paused in the middle of touching the glowing blue petals.

“Are you familiar with the flower?”

Cullen looks down, smiling softly, “They’re beautiful. The ones in the mortal realm don’t glow. None of the flowers do.”

“The lyrium makes the plants here luminescent. I do agree, it adds to their beauty,” he gently takes hold of one of the stems of the plant, pulling until it separates from the main. He hands it to Cullen.

“Oh, thank you,” the blonde man stammers, a fetching blush spreading across his cheeks.

“You’re welcome,” Dorian replies, thinking for the first time that a week seems a very brief time for Cullen to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is curious about Dorian's palace, here are some of the links I used for reference pictures. I do not want to admit how many more pictures were used, or how long I spent looking through these links in comparison to the amount of written detail I gave. I am telling myself that I will include more details on the house in the future so this doesn't feel like such a waste.
> 
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/9a/d8/b8/9ad8b86a7aff57035d82c9519f01b44e.jpg
> 
> http://l7.alamy.com/zooms/fd5cb1c11b6748a7a9a7a1c621cee414/italian-courtyard-of-the-grand-livadia-palace-summer-palace-of-the-d86196.jpg
> 
> http://www.house-design-coffee.com/images/turtle-bay-gardens-new-york-view-from-loggia.jpg
> 
> http://www.archivaldesigns.com/sites/default/files/styles/original_plan/public/Lochinvar06282011120048_1.jpg?itok=IcSd7woE
> 
> http://www.sevenstarsandstripes.com/content/magazine/TheGrand/Duernstein_Schlosshotel_f.jpg
> 
> https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/f2/b2/bb/f2b2bb1d967fcaddcbd46c8e6986419a.jpg
> 
> http://www.villaserbelloni.com/Bellagio/en/virtualtour.html


	5. An Accidental Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too tired to decide whether I'm brave enough to write a full sex scene, or if this is going to be a PG-13, fade to suggestive black and come in morning after sort of fic. However, I decided that I can at least publish the lead up, and finally give everyone some real romance!!! Thank you all for your patience!!!

The trip to the garden was followed with a dinner of delicious foods, and Dorian showing Cullen the rest of the palace. He learned that Dorian was an avid reader, the library being, by far, the most impressive and obviously loved room in the palace. The bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, lining the walls, with smaller shelves in the middle of the room. There were multiple over-stuffed arm chairs, a small couch, and throw pillows strewn about the room to make it comfortable. Small tables were covered in stacks of books, papers, and quills. One chair in particular was obviously Dorian’s favorite, as it was surrounded by piles of books. 

They ended up spending the evening in the library together, Dorian settling down in his chair to read, and Cullen browsing the shelves and pulling out a few books that caught his interest. He pulled a chair over next to Dorian’s, and was shocked when he looked over at the hour candle and saw that four marks had burned down since they had arrived. He had never sat so comfortably with another person before, each quietly reading their own book, lending company without truly interacting. He noticed too that they had slumped in their chairs in a way that had led to their feet tangling together, and he was shocked by how natural it felt.

Cullen coughed softly to get Dorian’s attention, “It’s actually gotten quite late, I should probably turn in.”

“Oh, my, yes it has,” Dorian observed, standing and stretching out his back. Cullen found his eyes being drawn to the patches of skin exposed by Dorian’s ridiculous shirt, fascinated by the play of muscles. 

“Spotted something you like, Commander?” Dorian asks him coyly, and Cullen practically falls from his chair, startling at being caught.

“Um! No! I--I’m...Just...tired! Yes! Tired. Very tired, from reading…...So long...I mean, I do read, it’s not a struggle for me, just...this was a very long time to read and my eyes are a bit...sore….” Cullen flinches at the weak excuse. He stands, feeling his face burning in embarrassment, “I’m going to go to my room. Goodnight Dorian.”

He can hear Dorian’s laughter following him all the way down the hall.

Cullen’s feelings of awkwardness pass the next morning, however, when he discovers that the Lord of the Underworld is very much not a morning person. He had woken early, as was his habit, and assumed he would be breakfasting with Dorian in his sitting room. He followed one of the shade spirits into Dorian’s chambers, to find the god stumbling around in a bleary haze, wrapped in a lavish robe with hair and moustache a mess.

The horror at being caught in such a state seemed to wake Dorian significantly, because he had suddenly sprung into action, shrieking at Cullen and shoving him out the door. Once he was done laughing, Cullen had stood outside the door, shouting in that it was fine, and while the sight had been amusing, he didn’t think less of Dorian for it. Dorian had eventually let him back in, but only after both combing his hair and swearing Cullen to secrecy about the whole affair.

After breakfast, Dorian had taken Cullen out to see more of the Underworld. He saw the Fields of Heroes, where mortals who lived extraordinary lives spent the afterlife. He got to meet Leliana properly, as well as Flemeth and Morrigan. He frankly found all three women terrifying to some degree. He felt that Flemeth was the most terrifying, giving him the impression that she could probably turn him into some sort of insect in a highly painful manner. Morrigan seemed like the type of person who hates just about everyone she comes across, and doesn’t consider you worth her time unless you prove otherwise. Leliana, he got the impression, was someone you wanted to be friends with, because if she was on your side, she would do anything for you, and if she decided she didn’t like you she would make you wish you had never been born. Luckily, she seemed to take a liking to him almost immediately. Josephine happened to drop by at the same time, and the four of them all sat down for tea, Dorian and Cullen listening with rapt attention to the scandalous stories Leliana and Josephine told about their fellow gods.

Then, one night, six days after Cullen’s arrival, everything changed. Cullen hadn’t intended for things to change, but he had changed them.

They had been in the library together for hours now and had, over the course of the evening, gone from each reading their own book in a separate chair, to sitting on the couch together looking over the same book. Cullen was sprawled, legs stretched out before him, one arm resting along the back of the couch, while Dorian was sitting curled up next to him, legs tucked beneath him. The shade spirits had brought in wine, which Cullen was starting to suspect Dorian was also a god of, for he seemed to always be drinking it. It was a strong red, and had made both of their heads soft around the edges. They were leaning against each other, giggling as they read, and there was more touching between them than there had been the past few days. Cullen found himself tapping Dorian’s arm to get his attention, rather than say his name. Dorian would shove at him playfully as they bickered, and put a hand on Cullen’s thigh to steady himself when the wine made him dizzy.

The evening progressed this way, and Cullen almost felt like he was glowing with happiness. He wasn’t sure what it was, the good wine, the playful banter interspersed with deep discussion, the feeling of closeness. No doubt it was a combination of everything, but he didn’t think he had ever felt more blissfully happy in his life. As reluctant as he was to let the night end, however, this was the third time he had caught Dorian half nodding off into the book. 

Cullen laid a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder, trying to softly rouse him, “Dorian.”

Dorian startled, and then blinked in an owlish manner that had Cullen smiling fondly.

“I think it’s time for us both to retire.”

“Nonsense!” Dorian protested, “The night is still young! We didn’t finish discussing Genitivi!”

“Genitivi is not going anywhere, and I think we passed up on the night being young some hours ago.”

Cullen rose from the couch and without thinking, leaned down and pressed a kiss to Dorian’s cheek. He didn’t even think about it, it had simply felt like the natural thing to do. The action didn’t even catch up to his brain until he was pulling away.

He froze. 

“Oh, I—” he stuttered, pulling away quickly, feeling his whole face go red, “—Dorian, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t—”

Cullen stopped when Dorian waved a hand, face oddly blank and expressionless.

“Think nothing of it,” he said briskly, “You were correct, it is much later than I thought, and we drank more than was probably wise. It was a mistake, and I understand. Not to happen again, and not to be mentioned. You needn’t worry about me making anything of it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am finding myself rather tired.”

Dorian was past him and out the doors of the library before Cullen even had a chance to say anything. As he stood there, he realized with a shock how crushed he felt. He might not have planned to kiss Dorian, it had happened on instinct, and Cullen trusted his instincts for a reason. He had wanted to kiss Dorian. The want had been steadily growing for almost a week now, as he got to know the man better and better. It had started as physical attraction, and a sense of fascination over the strange man, but now it was more than that. He felt like he knew Dorian better than any other god, despite their short acquaintance, and he liked the man he had come to know. He liked the sense of comfort they had around each other, the playful banter, the intellectual debates. He liked the quirks he had come to learn of Dorian’s, like how he would go to twirl his moustache just after delivering what he felt was a particularly clever one-liner, or how he developed more of a sweet-tooth the later the hour grew. Cullen wanted to get to know Dorian even better, and as more than just a friend.

What have you done? He thought to himself. You’ve ruined everything. It was clear he was horrified. Probably disgusted. Even if he was attracted to men, he wouldn’t want you. Now you’ve ruined your friendship with him, he’ll never feel comfortable letting his guard down around you like this again. You need to go try and salvage this. Make sure he’s alright, reassure him it won’t happen again. It won’t. Your feelings don’t matter here.

Cullen ran to Dorian’s rooms, hoping against hope he still had a chance to make things right. He was surprised to find Dorian’s door only half-closed, and he permitted his nerves the luxury of peeking inside before entering.

Dorian was still in his sitting room. He was collapsed on the settee, face in his hands.

“He was drunk,” he was saying firmly, his voice oddly choked, “He was drunk, it didn’t mean anything.”

He lifted his face up, and Cullen’s heart clenched to see Dorian’s normally impeccable makeup smudged with tears. 

“Forget about it,” Dorian says, and he would probably be whispering but the tears make the words come out louder than they should, “It was an accident, and nothing will come of it. Save yourself the heartbreak.”

Heartbreak. The word echoes in Cullen’s ears, growing louder. 

He almost slams open the door, causing Dorian to jump in shock. The dark-haired man looks panicked.

“Cullen! What are you—”

Cullen cuts him off, kneeling down and fiercely pressing his lips to Dorian’s. His hands, however, are gentle as they come up to cradle Dorian’s face. 

He pulls away after a moment, to grin at Dorian who is still staring down at Cullen with a look of confusion.

“It might have been an accident, but I absolutely meant it,” Cullen says, voice as firm as Dorian’s had been seconds ago, “I want this, Dorian. I want something to come of it.”

Dorian’s eyes light up with wonder, though he still holds back, cautious.

“You’re sure? This isn’t some drunken whim? While I am extremely fond of those, I have discovered that it’s not wise to indulge in them with someone you want to keep as a friend.”

Cullen leans forward and kisses Dorian again, softly.

“I’m not drunk, this isn’t a whim. I’m not going to go running back to the mortal realm in the morning, never to acknowledge you again.”

A look of pain flashes through Dorian’s eyes, but before Cullen can ask, Dorian pulls him forward eagerly, kissing him with a passion that wipes the thought from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, can I just say that whether dating or just as bffs, Leliana and Josephine are totally my favorite power couple? Those girls could totally take over all of Thedas while sipping mimosas at brunch. I want to hang out with them, and so I have to at least write about them if I can't really be there.


	6. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing Solas, the Creepy Lurking God of Dreams!!!! Also, Dorian is a sad insecure baby who has had his heart broken by jerk heroes.

Dorian lay back in his bed, warm light spilling in and dancing over the skin of his torso. He gasped in pleasure at the feeling of soft lips travelling down his stomach and while calloused fingers traced tantalizing patterns along his thigh. He tugged at soft golden curls in encouragement, and looked down.

Cullen was watching him, eyes dancing with delight.

“Oh, I’m sorry, should I come back up there?” he asks in a low voice, lifting his mouth away from Dorian’s hip.

“Don’t—tease,” Dorian groans, trying to push Cullen’s head back in the direction he wants it, “Cruel man.”

Cullen just laughs, pressing a kiss to the dip of Dorian’s hip, “Serves you right, for how you made me suffer last night. This, my darling, is payback.”

He runs his lips light as a whisper along Dorian’s cock, making him twitch and groan. Before Dorian can reply, however, everything suddenly changes.

Now the bed is cold, and Dorian’s body aches with pain, rather than pleasure. He looks up, and sees a different man in the room, and this one is pulling on his clothes to leave.

“What are you doing?” Dorian asks, even though he knows the answer. He hates that he always asks, like somehow Rilienus is going to say something different this time through.

“Leaving,” the human hero answers, looking back with scorn on his face, “Wait, are you surprised? You thought I was going to stay?”

It’s the laugh that always hurts the most.

“I only came here for the orb, why would I stay? Last night was...pleasurable, but you have nothing left to offer me. I can get a good fuck in the mortal realm anytime I please.”

Dorian tries to hold back the words, but they slip out against his will.

“But you said—”

“That I loved you? Oh, how the gods have fallen, that they can be fooled by a mortal so. That’s what you wanted to hear! I knew it was the easiest way for you to show me the orb. I would have just left then, but I wasn’t going to waste all the effort of seducing you and not get one night in your bed. I’ve done that though, and I have my prize, so I’ll be going now. It will be grand to let the poets know that they can say I’ve bedded Death.”

The bolt of magic flies from Dorian’s hand, but the scene changes again, and now it’s Cullen standing there. Except this is not the Cullen he knows. This Cullen’s eyes are cold and hard. He is dressed in full armor, fastening on his last bracer.

“You couldn’t have really expected me to stay, Dorian,” he says in a scornful, condescending voice.

“I am a god of plenty, of the harvest. What could I want with you? Did you really think someone like me could ever love a god of death? You disgust me, everything about this place is abhorrent to me.”

“No! Stop! He’s not like that!” Dorian shouts, turning away. He frantically scans the room, trying to ignore the hateful words pouring from Cullen’s mouth. He’s almost given up hope until he sees the green flicker in the corner of his eye.

“Solas!”

The God of Dreams sighs, and steps forward. The dream around them freezes.

“Put an end to this!” Dorian demands, “This is sickening! Why do you take delight in torturing my sleep this way?!”

Solas levels him with a supremely unimpressed look. 

“You are well aware, Dorian, that I do not control the dreams of gods, I simply guard them. While I can spin the dreams of mortals, this is a creation entirely of your own mind. It is your own fears that haunt your sleeping mind, and only you can banish them. Pulling me from my duties to harass me will not help.”

“Don’t lie to me, Solas!” Dorian persists, not heeding the warning note in the other god’s voice “While you do not spin the dreams of gods, I know full well that you can steer them! You simply enjoyed seeing me hurt and humiliated! It’s jealousy! It’s been a century, but Lavellan still hasn’t forgiven your treachery, and you can’t stand to see another god find love!”

A blast of magic sent Dorian crashing against the far wall of his bedroom. A second later, Solas was before him, eyes glowing green, staff pressing against his throat.

“I will not punish you as I should for such a statement, Dorian, for I know your mind is still in turmoil from the dream, and you cannot think clearly. I will not forget this, however, and should you continue to insult me so, I will retaliate.”

With a gasp, Dorian awoke, jerking up in his bed, clutching at his throat as he regained his breath.

Cullen stirred beside him, turning and mumbling blearily, “You alright?”

“Yes, fine,” Dorian replied, fighting to keep his voice under control. He lay back down, and allowed Cullen to pull him close, “It was nothing, just a dream. Go back to sleep.”

Cullen hummed, already halfway back asleep from the sound of it, but still managed to press a few kisses to Dorian’s shoulder. 

Once he is sure the man is asleep, Dorian carefully slips out from Cullen’s arms and walks out to his garden. He paces around restlessly, unable to escape the painful dream, and the anxieties it brought to mind. He doesn’t want to lose Cullen. The last week had been one of the happiest he had ever had, and then earlier this night was pure bliss. Cullen hadn’t just had sex with him...it had been making love. The way he kissed and touched Dorian, he had felt like something beautiful, something cherished. It was too easy to slip into a daydream of a future together with Cullen. A future where he wasn’t alone, where he spent his nights wrapped in Cullen’s arms, travelled to the mortal realm at harvest time to celebrate with Cullen. Where Cullen made the palace in the Underworld his home, ruling at his side, and becoming part of the small family Dorian made with his friends in this place. 

It is so easy to fall into the daydream, but Dorian knows it will never be true. Cullen will return to the mortal realm, no doubt promising to visit again. He might even come once or twice, because he seemed like the type who would make that initial effort. However, the visits would be farther and farther apart, and shorter every time, and the easy friendship they had now would turn strained and false as Cullen realized just how different their lives were from one another’s. Soon, Josephine would no doubt be bringing news of how Cullen was suddenly becoming close with some mortal woman or perhaps one of the goddesses, whose mortal lover had died off, and was now looking for an immortal companion. Then it would be the awful wedding he was obligated to attend as he was a god, and he’d have to stand there pretending his heart wasn’t breaking as he watched Cullen wed another. It was just how these things went.

Dorian sat on the wall of the fountain, letting his fingers trail through the lyrium waters. As he listened to the trickle of the fountain, an idea came to his mind. It was not the most honorable or honest thing to do, but...Well, it wouldn’t be long term. Just enough to make Cullen stay a bit longer. He was meant to leave in a day’s time, and that was too soon, given this new development. He wouldn’t change it though, not with his appointment with Alistair. If he simply forgot the appointment though, well Dorian could give him plenty of motivation to stay. If he stayed, Dorian might have the time to try and make this last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to give a head's up that next chapter will is going to be the one where things get briefly sketchy. Dorian (as you can guess) is about to make a terrible decision, and do something that, in my book, is totally morally wrong. His low self-esteem is no excuse for this.
> 
> So, I will put trigger warnings at the beginning of the chapter, and if possible write it so you could skip it and conceivably read the rest after that.


	7. Lyrium Wine (Warnings for Non-Con Drug Use)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen reassures Dorian that he will come back to the Underworld as soon as he can, and Dorian stays silent when he should speak up.

Something soft was tickling Cullen’s chest, and it was enough to rouse him into wakefulness. He slowly opened his eyes, and glanced down to find Dorian leaning over, kissing along his collarbone, as his fingers stroked over Cullen’s sides.

“Good morning,” Dorian said softly, meeting Cullen’s eyes with a smile.

Cullen strokes his hand along the man’s back, and rumbled, his voice still gravelly from sleep, “A very good morning indeed. I could get used to being woken this way, I have to say.”

“Hmm,” Dorian hums, returning his attention to a cluster of freckles before him, “perhaps, but I’ll have to insist on getting some sort of equal treatment in return. I only pamper if it’s reciprocal.”

Cullen gasped at a playful nip at the juncture of his shoulder, and struggles to keep up with the banter, “B-but of course. I-oh! I’ll spoil you at night, before we go to sleep—yes, right there!—and you’ll do the mornings—Dorian please!”

Dorian had snuck a hand down to Cullen’s cock, and stroked it to fullness. The conversation quickly abated, both parties deciding to put off making plans for future debauchery, in favor of committing their full attention to the current round.

“Here, Dori, let me—” Cullen was cut off by a slow, thorough kiss, Dorian pinning his hands above his head.

“No. You’re just to lie back and enjoy this,” he instructs, pulling away with a smirk, “Unless…”

Dorian pulls one hand up and used a spell to coat it in a slick liquid. Wordlessly, he guided the hand back to his ass. Cullen sucked in a breath.

“Just like last night.”

Cullen massages gentle circles around Dorian’s hole, waiting until it was loose enough to slip a finger in. He watches Dorian’s face, the way Dorian’s eyes would tighten shut at some pressures, and snap open at others. He watches the steadily growing color across Dorian’s neck and chest, the way his chest heaved with his panting breaths. He places his other hand on Dorian’s thigh to feel the muscles in it shaking and tensing. He listenes to the moans and half-gasped oaths escaping Dorian’s lips.

Finally, Dorian tells him to stop, and conjures another handful of grease to slick over Cullen’s cock. Cullen clutches at the bedding beneath him to keep from thrusting up into Dorian’s fist. Once he was slicked, he leans up, pulling Dorian into a kiss as the man sunk down on him. He clutches at Dorian’s hair, breathing in the other man’s gasp, close enough to feel his forehead wrinkle as they slowly came together.

“Dorian, you...you feel amazing...I-I can’t…”

“I know,” Dorian pants, dropping his head down to Cullen’s shoulder, “I know.”

Dorian starts moving, rocking himself in Cullen’s lap, and Cullen can’t hold himself up any longer. He falls back onto the bed, straining not to close his eyes at the sensations running through him so as not to miss a moment of watching Dorian.

He can’t help it, however, when his eyes shut as his release rushed through him, causing his limbs to shake with pleasure. He cries out Dorian’s name, back arching off the bed. He manages to wrench his eyes open just in time to see Dorian finish, painting his chest with white streaks.

Heart rate returning to normal, Cullen lays curled against Dorian in the bed, fingers lazily tracing patterns against Dorian’s chest.

“I’ve never shared something like this with someone before,” he confesses in a hushed tone, “I hate to have to leave so soon.”

Dorian squirms slightly against him, looking away and picking at a loose thread on the duvet. Cullen shifts so he’s propped up, and gently turns Dorian’s head back to meet his eyes.

“I’m coming back though. You know that, right?” Cullen asks fervently, wanting to make sure that Dorian understood that he wasn’t abandoning the new relationship they had just started to form, “I have to go back to the mortal realm tomorrow morning, but I will return here as soon as I can. I’m not leaving this, you, us. I told you I wanted this, and I meant that.”

Dorian smiles weakly at him, still not quite meeting his eyes, “Yes, of course.” 

Cullen pulls away, dropping a kiss to Dorian’s forehead, and standing to get a rag to clean them off. 

“Dorian, listen. I didn’t enter into this lightly. I have grown extremely fond of you, even just as a friend. I had already intended to come back to visit you again, and now I have even more reason. I will go to the mortal realm, keep my appointment with Alistair, explain things to my siblings, and then return. I can stay here for the rest of the summer, until I have to go to oversee the harvest. You should come with me for harvest! The mortals hold the most marvelous festivals, you would love it. You can meet my family and friends, as I have met yours. Please, trust me.”

Cullen wipes off his chest, dips the rag back in the bowl of water, and tosses it to the bed, where Dorian catches it in mid-air. Cullen spots a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table in the room, and goes over to pour them some wine. 

He is part way through draining his first glass when he hears Dorian call out, “Cullen, wait!”

The last of the wine slips down his throat before he lowers the glass.

“What?” he asks, frowning and wiping his mouth. Dorian’s face has gone white as a sheet.

Cullen hurriedly moves over to the bed, cupping Dorian’s cheek. 

“What’s wrong?”

He sees Dorian struggle to swallow before the man turned his face to kiss his palm.

“Nothing, mellitus, nothing. Ah...we should make sure to breakfast, before you leave.”

Cullen breathes a sigh of relief and laughs. The wine has gone to his head faster than he had expected, making him feel light and somewhat foggy in the mind. He had no idea what Dorian was talking about.

“Leaving? I’m not leaving, love. We could stay in bed all day, if you want. I was thinking of walking to the waterfall though. Perhaps pack a picnic lunch and the chess set? If you’re not in the mood for that, I wanted to return to the Field of Heros. I wanted to ask the Hero of Fereldan some questions about the events at Ostagar.”

Dorian seems to hesitate for a moment, his face looked tortured, and Cullen is about to ask him again if something was wrong. Then, Dorian’s expression changes, and he smiles brightly...almost too brightly.

“Going to speak with Surana sounds wonderful. We can bring a picnic lunch there, rather than the lyrium falls. I’ll make sure the shades put in fruit tarts, that will make Surana sing with joy. It’s a horrible thing to experience, she might be able to kill an archdemon, but she can’t hold a tune. Still, she’ll appreciate it.”

Dorian hops out of bed, pokes his head out the door to deliver instructions to the shades, and quickly makes his way over to his wardrobe. Within moments of listening to him agonize over outfit choices, Cullen had forgotten all about Dorian’s odd behavior.

Dorian continued acting oddly all day, not as engaged in their conversations as usual, and seemed to fluctuate between babbling on almost nonsensically and then going oddly quiet, with no traceable reason. Cullen kept meaning to ask about it, but kept forgetting within moments of having the thought. When they returned to the palace that evening, he couldn’t recall any specific details about what they discussed with Surana earlier that day.

This would normally worry Cullen, but he didn’t have any thoughts of being worried. Instead, he was focused on Dorian, who had been shy around him all day. Dorian would allow Cullen to kiss him on the cheek or forehead, but wouldn’t kiss back, and avoided anything more than a short peck.

Cullen seizes his opportunity to remedy this once they were alone, pushing Dorian up against the wall of his bedroom and kissing him hungrily. Dorian hums in pleasure, sliding his hands down to Cullen’s ass before something suddenly changes.

Dorian freezes up, and then pushes him away.

“Cullen, we need to talk...I have to tell you something,” Dorian starts to say.

“What is it?” Cullen asks, confused, “Did I do something wrong?”

Dorian rubs at his face, and Cullen would almost say he looks guilty over something.

“No, no, mellitus. You didn’t do anything wrong. You never could,” there is an odd break in his voice, “I’m just...tired. It’s been a long day, and I’m not quite in the mood.”

“Oh, that’s fine. Is there anything I can do to help? Draw you a bath? Give you a massage?” Cullen offers, drawing closer again and cradling Dorian’s cheek in his hand.

Dorian looks up at him, and for a moment he seems to be about to cry.

“Oh, you’re just too much. No, I’ll be fine. You...if you want to stay and just sleep...I would welcome it.”

“Of course,” Cullen says, leaning in to kiss Dorian’s hair, “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

They sleep together, and Cullen makes no mention of leaving the next morning, or the morning after that. It isn’t until over a week later, when Alistair himself comes bursting into Dorian’s palace, that he remembers he was supposed to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOW THE HECK DO PEOPLE WRITE SEX SCENES?!?!?! I have read I don't even know how many sex scenes before, and I can imagine how I want the scene to go movie-style in my head, but putting it into words was just the most awkward and difficult thing ever!!! I felt like a 13-year-old trying to describe sex in a truth or dare game or something!!! Ugh...
> 
> Also, chapter title sort of gives away how Dorian makes Cullen forget about going home, but I figured that the hinting was obvious enough, it wasn't a huge spoiler.


	8. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is just a really short chapter, honestly it's more like a half-chapter. I'm having trouble trying to get this to work in a way that feels right. It's also the last week of school, so my life is a bit crazy right now. I wanted to get something up though, just to keep things moving a bit. I'll try to keep working on it this week, and get up more somewhere around the weekend.
> 
> Thank you everyone for sticking with me!

“Alistair!” Cullen exclaims, looking up in confusion, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Cullen,” the Lord of the Skies says in gentle concern, “You were supposed to return to the mortal realm a week ago. When no one could find you, I came here to see what had happened.”

“What?” Cullen shakes his head, “I don’t...I don’t understand.”

He thinks back, and it’s more difficult than he expects, trying to recall exactly how many days he passed since his arrival in the Underworld. The memories blended together, and were clouded, hard to grasp. He felt as though he were trying to remember something many years in the past, rather than days that had just taken place. The more he tried to focus, the more difficult things became, and a sharp headache started to pound at his temples. He turned to Dorian.

“Dorian, what...What does he mean it’s a week past when I was supposed to leave?” Cullen doesn’t want to even consider the implications of Alistair’s words, a sick, sinking feeling in his gut developing.

The feeling only gets worse at the guilt and sorrow in Dorian’s eyes, as the man faces him.

“Cullen, I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to cause a worry like this. I---I just wanted a few more days with you—”

Cullen cuts him off with a steely tone, “What did you do?”

Dorian hesitates, looking away, and Cullen repeats the question, louder.

“What. Did. You. Do?!”

“I...it was just a little lyrium!” Dorian confesses, attempting to put a hand on Cullen’s arm. Cullen jerks away, and takes a twisted pleasure in the look of hurt on Dorian’s face at the rejection.

“Please, Cullen! I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted you to stay a few more days.”

“So you drugged me!” Cullen rages, “How could you think that was an acceptable thing to do! What is wrong with you, that you would do such a thing to someone?!?! You could have talked to me! Asked me to stay! Instead you betray my trust like this! Drug me, lie to me!”

Dorian backs away, a bland mask falling over his face.

“Look, I think you’re overreacting a bit Cullen, taking this out of proportion.”

“Overreacting?! Are you serious? I thought you were my friend! Perhaps even more than that! I...clearly I was wrong,” Cullen shudders, and swallows thickly, “I need to get out of here. I can’t stay here another moment. Goodbye Dorian.”

Cullen turns, forcing himself not to look back. His mind feels like it is spinning in circles, trying to process all this new information. Dorian had betrayed him. The man he thought he was possibly falling in love with, had lied to him, drugged him, kept him prisoner through misinformation. Cullen’s chest is tight, a sharp pain like a sword stabbing through him, and he fights against tears as he walks away.


	9. Confessions and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I was seriously struggling to write this chapter. I kept trying, but it just felt wrong. I came to realize that it was because I couldn't keep going with the story, knowing that it would lead to Cullen forgiving Dorian. It just felt too morally wrong, to in a way reward Dorian for drugging Cullen. I couldn't do it.
> 
> So I had the choice of either retconning how Cullen ended up drugged, or giving this a super angsty ending. I chose the former, feeling it was the lesser of two evils. So now Cullen ended up drugged in a different way. I gave the basic explanation of what changed in this chapter, so you don't have to go and re-read. However, if you do want to, I will be changing Chapter 7 directly after posting this.

A week back home, and Cullen was doing his best to forget. He threw himself into helping his friends and siblings with projects, and told himself that spending an entire day planning out the growth patterns of one farmer’s field was not a waste of time. By sunrise on the eighth day after leaving the Underworld, he almost felt as though he was back to who he was before the whole ordeal.

Which is why he wasn’t necessarily pleased to turn around and see Leliana and Adaar walking towards him.

Nonetheless, he puts on a polite smile and waves.

“Lady Nightingale, Lady Inquisitor. What are you doing up here?”

“Cullen,” Leliana greets him softly, scanning his face intently, “How fare you?”

Cullen scowls slightly at the treatment, “Leliana, you don’t need to act like that. I was not harmed, no one died, you needn’t treat me like a child who will fall to tears at any moment.”

“Perhaps you were not physically harmed, but you were wronged, Cullen. It is not weak to be affected by what happened.”

Cullen shakes his head.

“Why are you here?” he demands, “If Dorian sent you with some sort of apology, I’m not interested in hearing it.”

“You think we would deliver it, if he had?” Adaar scoffs, “We are hardly his messengers. We are goddesses of Justice and Judgement. What he did was wrong, even he knows that, fool that he is. No, we are here to ask you for you to give us your statement on what happened between you and Dorian.”

“I...I’m sorry, I’m confused.”

Leliana smiles softly and pats his arm, “As soon as you left, Dorian turned himself in to us to face judgement for his actions. He knew it was wrong, and refused clemency based on his status. He is being held in the prisons of the Underworld, awaiting trial. He has given his statement, though it took some patience to get one that was not simply a litany of self-damnation.”

Adaar rolls her eyes and massages her temples.

“I hate it when Dorian fucks up like this. He doesn’t handle guilt well. The moron has refused any food or water.”

Cullen’s eyebrows draw down in concern, “That’s not...he might be a god, but he still needs to eat and drink.”

“I know. He’s weak as a mortal babe from his own stupid self-inflicted punishment. Like I said, doesn’t handle guilt well.”

Leliana suddenly frowns, “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t be telling you this. Dorian wronged you, it’s not correct for us to inflict news of him on you. We just need your testimony against him for the trial. We came here to take it in person, so you will not need to attend the trial. We need you to tell us what happened in your own words, answer a few questions, and then, if possible, listen to Dorian’s confession and confirm if it accurately reflects what happened.”

Cullen sighs, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Fine. So, the night before I was supposed to leave, Dorian and I...spent together. That morning, I got up and had some wine that was sitting out on a table in Dorian’s room. I...I don’t think I remember seeing it the night before….I’m not sure. Anyways, I got up, poured myself a glass, and drank it.”

Cullen pauses, remembering something he had forgotten up until this point.

“Dorian told me to stop,” he breathes out softly, “As I was drinking...he shouted out for me to wait….He looked horrified….He mentioned something about leaving, but...I didn’t remember anything about my plans with Alistair, or having to leave that day.”

“That would be the effect of the lyrium, clouding your memories.”

“He...he brought it up a few more times that day, mentioning me returning home, but I just kept telling him it didn’t make sense. He was acting oddly too...guilty. That night, he tried to tell me what happened, but….I assumed I had done something wrong when he said we needed to talk. He denied it, and then...just didn’t bring it up again.”

Leliana nods, copying down Cullen’s words on a scroll.

Adaar coughs slightly, “I know this is difficult, but we do need to ask. Were you and Dorian intimate at all during the time you were drugged?”

Cullen blushes bright red and stares at the ground.

“No. He actually actively resisted any...attempts...on my part. I...kissed him, a few times, but the only...intimate activity that occurred between us took place before I drank the wine.”

Both Adaar and Leliana look immensely relieved.

“Can you tell me the details of Dorian’s statement?” Cullen asks, burning with desire to know the contents.

Leliana nods, pulling a scroll from her bag, “He has given us permission to share it. He claims that he mixed the wine with lyrium the night before, after waking from a nightmare. I hope you understand if I keep the contents of the nightmare confidential. It was rather...personal. Suffice to say, he was afraid of you leaving, and potentially still under the influence of Solas. He then decided to drug your wine, to make you forget your engagement the next day and thus get you to stay in the Underworld longer. He said...he had hoped that prolonging your visit would give you more time to grow attached to him.”

“Dorian asserts that by the next morning, his fears had passed. He had not planned on going through with the drugging. You got up and drank the wine before he was able to stop you. What he considers his wrongdoing was not taking you back to the mortal realm, or informing you of what had happened. He could have, but chose not too. He says he was too weak, and gave into the temptation of having you stay, rather than revealing the truth. That is the crime for which he will be tried, with the recognition of initial intent to drug you.”

Cullen is silent, thinking over the new information that had been revealed to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry. I know that it's really annoying to have changes made to a story when you're partway through reading it, and this makes it even more different in tone from the original myth. It's just the only way I could feel comfortable continuing to write it, and have it actually end with them getting together. I hope you all understand. Thank you, everyone, for sticking with me!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to meet some new gods, the stage for the trial is set, and I throw in a mabari Cerberus because I have been wanting to include one since I started this story! If nothing else, Cullen has now gotten a three-headed puppy out of all of this crap, and that's something.

“This is unacceptable!” the Goddess of Spring yelled, a roll of thunder and crash of lightening emphasizing her point, “My brother has been drugged! His trust and person violated, and yet the man guilty still has not been put on trial!!!”

A harsh wind ripped through Skyhold, the meeting house of the gods, flinging cloaks, rattling tapestries, and scattering sheaves of parchment.

Alistair glared as he untangled his cloak from his head, “Mia, control your temper or you will be asked to leave. We are doing everything we can. A trial date has been set, but the Inquisitor and Lady Nightingale are still compiling evidence.”

“What evidence need be compiled? The offense is clear to all, and the guilty party has even confessed! I think that these claims of needing to compile evidence are nothing more than stalling tactics, on the part of two goddesses well known to be friends of the accused!!”

A deadly hush fell over the hall. Even Varric, God of Tales, who had been playing cards with Isabela, Goddess of the Sea, in the corner, looked up.

Adaar rose from her chair and stepped forward, looming over Mia, “If you are going to make accusations of false dealings, my lady, make them to the proper parties. Both Lady Nightingale and I have been handling this situation with the utmost care. It has been many ages since an offense of such magnitude has been purpotrated between two gods, and brought to trial before the entire Council. It is not a matter to be dealt with lightly. We are taking our time, to assure that nothing goes amiss. If you would rather we rush through the procedure, and hurry this case to a sloppy, ill-prepared hearing, by all means tell us. We will bring Lord Dorian here this very moment.”

Mia stood her ground, not saying anything, simply glaring at Adaar. Hawke, God of Champions and Acts of Valor, came up and gently pulled her away.

“Mia, you’re letting your temper take control of your sense. Go...take a walk and cool down, you don’t mean what you’re saying.”

He guided her out a side door, and signalled for The Iron Bull, “Go follow her, calm her down a bit.”

He turns back to the rest of the assembled gods.

“We do need to have this trial, and sooner rather than later, for the sake of balance among the Assembly. Adaar, Leliana, what do you need to go forward with the trial?”

Leliana stepped forward.

“We have collected evidence and taken statements from both parties. All that remains is to go over the rules of trial with the Assembly, and bring Lord Dorian. If the whole Assembly agrees, we can hold the trial at dawn tomorrow.”

“All in favor?” Alistair asked, then counted the raised hands, “Motion passed. We need full Assembly present for a trail of a fellow High God. The three siblings Rutherford will be present, but will not be voting on a verdict, due to their relation to an involved party. Similarly, Felix, God of Scholars, as adopted brother to the accused, you will not be permitted to vote. We reconvene at dawn, please, make sure everyone gets here. I really don’t want to have to go looking for anyone.”

Alistair turns to glare at the God of Drink, “Oghren, you are not to leave my sight from now until the trial is over. I can’t have you passed out for this.”

The gods protestations could not be heard over the laughter and jeering from the rest of the Assembly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You are most lucky that our friend Varric is given the duty of keeping record of Assembly meetings, and he is easy enough to persuade to not make note of prominent absences.”

Cullen rolls his eyes, and questions yet again why he chose Zevran, of all the gods, to help him sneak into the Underworld while the Assembly was being held.

“I’m less worried about the records, and more worried that your lack of flirtatious harassment will be noticed.”

“Ah, mi bellezo, you are the only one who considers it harassment.”

“That is a blatant lie.”

“Well, those do fall under my domain. In any case, here we are. I trust that with your recent familiarity, you can find your way from here. Now, I will leave you, and see if I can make it back in time to trade some sweet nothings with mi hermosa sirena, Isabela.”

“Yes, fine, go,” Cullen waves Zevran off with relief, and starts tracking his way down into the achingly familiar passages of the Underworld, trying to recall where Dorian had mentioned prisons.

He heads in what he hopes is the correct direction, only to find that, after walking for what feels like about twenty minutes, he is back where he started. He tries again, in a different direction, and the same thing happens.

“You won’t find the place you’re looking for if you’re not sure where you want to go,” a voice calls out.

Cullen looks, and sighs when he sees a spirit that appears to be sitting, cross-legged, on a stump a few feet away. The spirit’s face is covered by a remarkably large hat, but it seems to look like a young man, still on the edge of boyhood.

“I do know where I want to go, so that’s not the problem. I want to go to the prisons, can you help me find them?”

“That’s where your head has decided to go, but your heart still isn’t sure,” the spirit replies, “and that’s what’s stopping you. Your heart isn’t sure it wants to go to the prisons, it’s scared of what it might find there.”

“I—Look, I don’t know what you mean,” Cullen protests, “I want to go. All of me. I need to go, even if...even if I don’t like what I find...I need to see it. See him. I need to see him for myself, before the trial.”

The spirit stares at him, and though Cullen cannot see the boy’s eyes, it feels as though they pierce through to his very core.

“You’ve decided now. You’ll be able to find it.”

Cullen is about to ask if he could have some more assistance, but is distracted by the sound of joyful barking. He looks over, and running towards him is a dog. A puppy actually, with three heads. The strange puppy runs up to Cullen and leaps at his legs, enthusiastically attempting to lick him. 

Cullen kneels down to pet the beast, confused, but cooing at the dog, “Hello there. Well, aren’t you a sweet thing. How did you end up with so many heads, huh boy? Oh, more to kiss with, eh?” 

He tries his best to prevent dog tongue from ending up in his mouth, which is quite the feat with three enthusiastic puppy heads to keep track of.

“He’s yours, his spirit is bound to yours,” the spirit boy comments, “He was found, sickly, by Merrill, and she informed Lord Dorian, before you left. He brought a shirt of yours, to see if the pup showed signs of imprinting on you. He did, but then you left, and he’s been looking for you ever since. He will take you to the prisons, if you ask. I hope you find what you are looking for there.”

With that, the spirit is gone.

Cullen stands, doing his best to shove away the sweet tug in his gut as he looks at the puppy. The puppy Dorian had ensured was healed and tested to see if it would imprint on him.

“Alright then. Let’s...let’s do this before I lose my nerve. Guide me to the prison. Take me to Dorian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is curious, translations for Zevran's endearments:
> 
> mi bellezo: my beauty/handsome
> 
> mi hermosa sirena: my beautiful siren (felt very appropriate for Isabela)
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed having some more of the gods involved! Next update, Cullen and Dorian finally talk about what happened, and then Dorian gets put on trial!


	11. Dorian's Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, anyone else familiar with that feeling of guilt from totally torturing a character, but being really pleased because it works so well with the plot? Yeah, that's what I'm feeling right now. Dorian's romantic backstory got WAY more angsty and twisted than expected, but I'm disturbingly pleased with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ******Major trigger warnings for depictions of mentally and emotionally abusive relationships. The section with it is set off by little wavy lines (~~~~~~), so if you need to, skip over that part or the whole chapter. All you need to know is that Dorian had two seriously unhealthy relationships pre-Cullen, and they gave him some major trust issues. That is what caused him to have the nightmares and get out the drugged wine.*********

Dorian looked up as he heard the “pap-pap-pap” of puppy paws running across the stone floor of the prison. A small “woof”, and then the three-headed dog was running up to the shadow bars of his cell. Dorian stretched his hand through a space between two of the bars, letting the small dog lick it.

“There you are. I was wondering where you’d run off to, you rascal,” he said, giving the pup a scritch behind one of his sets ears, and laughing when it rolled over for a belly rub.

Occupied as he was with the puppy, he didn’t notice the other figure that slowly came around the corner, until it spoke his name in a hoarse voice.

“Dorian.”

Dorian’s head whipped up, and his heart clenched painfully.

“Cullen! What are you doing here?” he managed to choke out, staring widely at the man hovering as far from his cell as the room allowed.

“I--I don’t exactly know,” Cullen admitted, sitting down on the floor, “I just had to come and see you, before...well before everything happened.”

Dorian looked over the other man, noting how he had changed since they were last together. He had dark circles under his eyes, and a pallor to his face that made it clear he hadn’t been sleeping well. His hair had lost its previous shine, and the hair on his chin had grown several days past it’s normal stubble into a scruffy mess. Dorian knew he himself didn’t look much better. He hadn’t bathed in almost two weeks now, and had only eaten some thin gruel after nearly passing out last week. Adaar had taken him to task over “irresponsibly torturing himself when it was not his place to pass judgement and punishment on his own actions due to a lack of perspective and prejudice, and this is why they had a designated God of Judgement and the Assembly for these matters, and by their Maker if Dorian didn’t get over himself and eat the damned gruel she would shove it down his throat.” Sleep hadn’t come easily to Dorian, either evading him completely or bringing on guilty dreams about drugging Cullen where he poured the wine down Cullen’s throat, where the lyrium was too strong and sent Cullen into a permanent slumber or destroyed his mind completely.

“Yes, well,” Dorian’s typical defense mechanism set in— make light of the situation, joke and be sarcastic until the person was pushed away, “As you can see, the accommodations are absolutely spectacular. I designed them myself, you know, though if I had anticipated that I would be staying here I would have included some throw pillows in the cell.”

A hurt expression spasmed across Cullen’s face, and Dorian watched as he stood up.

“Look, if you’re just going to---I don’t know what I was expec--” Cullen ran a hand over his face, and let out a sigh far too weary for someone so fair, “I should just go.”

Dorian almost let him go. It would be better, in the long run. Save them both heartbreak, and let the man find someone who deserved him. However, Dorian’s selfish nature still won out, and he called to stop Cullen before the man could leave the room of cells.

“Cullen, wait. I...old habits are hard to break, even foolish ones like using sarcasm as an armor. Stay, please. We can talk.”

Cullen hesitated, but sat down, and Dorian felt the knot of fear in his stomach ease.

“I need to know why, Dorian,” he demanded, “I deserve that much.”

Dorian hung his head, resting it against his knees for a brief moment to hide his face from the piercing gaze of amber eyes.

“You do, but you won’t find the answer satisfying.”

He waited, but when Cullen didn’t give him any out, he began, speaking to the floor because it was easier than looking the man whose trust he betrayed in the eye.

“I suppose it will make slightly more sense if I start things earlier. There’s...a history...that explains my fears and lack of trust. So first I have to tell you about Danarius and Rilienius. 

~~~~~~~

“Danarius was one of the early mortals, back when the mightiest lived almost as long as the immortals themselves. He was a powerful man, a ruler in Minrathous, and a well-respected intellectual. In those days, I was young, and fascinated by the mortals. I spent more time among them than I did in the Underworld. I was drawn to Danarius’ intellect, putting on a mortal form to spend days among his halls. Food, wine, poetry, music, debate...all would flow freely among the guests, and soon Danarius honored me as a close friend. My visits stretched into weeks, and we would often stay up talking together, long after all the other guests retired. One night such as this...things changed. Danarius touched me in a way no other among gods or men had, and the touched awakened passions in me I knew not existed.”

“For long months I thought it was love. Danarius courted me, showering me with compliments and trinkets. He showed his affections for me openly to those who came to his house. I felt treasured, adored, and eventually trusted him with my true identity. I had feared that he would leave me when he learned the truth, but...he was delighted. So delighted that he bragged to all who would listen that he had captured the heart of a god...had bedded a god. I thought the bragging was normal, so I kept my discomfort quiet. I kept quiet when he...insisted we let others join our bed, claiming that...our experience had to be shared for...intellectual purposes...so it could be compared to sex between mortals. He posed it all as games, experiments...ways to showcase how amazing I, his lover, was to others. In truth, he treated me like his whore, to lend out for pleasures to any who would ask, affording me no say in the matter.”

“Even that, I rationalized away...still believing it was all signs of love. It was when he started...abusing my powers as a god, that I realized the corruption between us. He made me…” Dorian has to stop here, swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat at the memories. For a long moment, he couldn’t continue, his breath coming in ragged gasps, “He made me raise the dead. Violently drag spirits back from the peace of the Underworld to inhabit rotting corpses. It’s...it was torment for them, and as Ruler of the Underworld I felt every bit of horror and pain. He presented it as entertainment, a trick to show off at parties. Maker, Cullen, sometimes the body wouldn’t even be a correct match for the spirit! Can you imagine, the terror at being forced to wake from what is supposed to be your final slumber, to find yourself in a body not your own?! That was...that was what finally made me leave. He...he forced me to participate in some sick, twisted ritual. Told me it was a way to prove my love for him...He infused the body of an elven slave with lyrium...to see if he could bring it back fully, after killing the man...It worked, but the man experienced such pain and terror. He had no memory of his previous life, the lyrium...it...The elf killed Danarius, and I helped. After that...I tried to send the spirit back, but it was impossible. I...I appealed to Alistair to make him a god, a protector and liberator of slaves, to prevent future abuses such as this. Eventually we worked together to end slavery in Minrathous and all other Tevinter cities in which I held enough power.”

“Are you talking about Fenris?” Cullen asks in clear horror, “That’s...that’s how he came to his powers?”

“Yes.”

“Maker….You said there was another?”

“Rilienus. Yes. My second mistake. Much more recently than Danarius. I had decades in between of simply taking short, meaningless lovers. There was always some mortal hero willing to brag that they had bedded the King of the Dead. None of them realizing that I picked my lovers based on how long they had left in the mortal realm. No complications from a one-night affair when the hero is fated to die in the morning.”

“Then came Rilienus. He was...beautiful, a piece of art depicting perfection in the male form and an arse so taut you could bounce a gold piece off of it. I was utterly enchanted. Unlike the others, he came to me, knowing he was not long for the mortal world. He had heard of mortals I had taken before, and figured out my proclivities and habits. He said he wanted to bed me, and he wanted more than just one night. We spent days and nights together, and he told me he loved me. He whispered the words in my ears, cried them out in the throws of passion, and even spoke them to others. As we counted down the days before his spirit would leave his body, he told Leliana, Adaar, Merrill, everyone that he loved me and did not wish to leave me. The night before he was meant to die, I gave in. I couldn’t lose him, now that I had learned what it meant to be truly loved. I fed him the food of the gods, to strengthen his body so he would not die, and I showed him the Orb of the Fates. He was destined to go to battle with a High Dragon, for if he did not the dragon would destroy his lands and family. However, with the food of the gods, I showed him how his fate would change, that he would survive the battle and could return to me.”

“I was a fool. I awoke the next morning to find him dressed, leaving my palace with the Orb and a wealth of the food of the gods. He laughed at me, and made it clear that all his words of love had been lies. He had used me to learn his fate, and how to escape it, and now he planned to take the Orb back to the mortal realm so he could live forever, and become the mightiest warrior in history. I tried stop him, but he managed to escape to the mortal realm, and used the Orb to ever stay a step ahead of me. I only managed to keep on his trail by following the path of slewn monsters, and rumors of a man who had fucked Death and gained immortality.”

“I did finally catch and slay him. I think his is the only case of Adaar showing unfair bias in her sentencing. The deeds of his life were heroic, and at worst he should have gone to the River, but she banished him to the Fields of Punishment for what he did to me. I was, perhaps, petty, but I adored her for doing it.”

~~~~~~

“So that is my history of lovers. Based on these experiences...I did not expect you to stay. I wanted to believe you. That you truly, properly loved me. That you would return to me and we could try a proper relationship. That night though, I dreamt of my other lovers, and how being with you could lead to hurt in the same way. When I awoke from the dreams, all I could feel was fear. Fear that you would leave for the mortal realm and not return. I couldn’t think logically, see the differences between the others and you. I fetched the lyrium wine with some foolish plan of having you drink it so you would stay. To give me the control over how things progressed, to protect myself.”

“By the next morning, I could see the errors of my nighttime fears, but I was not fast enough to stop you from drinking the wine….I should have told you. I should have sent you back to your home, even with the memory loss. I didn’t though...because...you were staying. I didn’t make you drink the wine, so it didn’t feel as wrong. I was getting the chance to be with you, and it was so easy to put off telling you for one day, then another, until it was too late.”

Before Cullen could reply, the sound of someone else approaching echoed through the hall.

“Alright, if that slobbery dog is with you, could you please tell it to go sit in a corner or something? You know he upsets Ser Pounce-a-Lot,” Anders called as he came around the corner.

“Oh. Cullen? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you Anders,” Cullen replied defensively, crossing his arms as he stood up.

Anders rolled his eyes and held up his bag of potions and poultices, “God of Healing, what do you think I’m here for? You can relax, I don’t care if you’re here, so long as it’s by your own choice. You’ll both be interested to know that the trial is set for tomorrow morning. Dorian, I’m supposed to check you over to make sure you’re in a proper state of health for a trip to the mortal realm, given your lack of self-care these past few weeks. So. Dog. Corner. Now please.”

Dorian instructed the mabari to go sit in the corner, and looked past Anders to Cullen.

“You should go back. If they sent Anders, that means the Assembly is over. You’ll be missed.”

Cullen nodded, and went to leave. He paused at the end of the room and looked back.

“Thank you, for being honest with me. I…” he stopped and shook his head, “I appreciate what you’ve shared.”

Cullen left, and Dorian resigned himself to mentally preparing for the trial in the morning.


	12. Author's Note

Hi Everyone!

I am so, so, so incredibly sorry that I haven't updated this in ages!!!! My life has been crazy the past few months- I was moving to a new flat, and I'm in a temporary summer job that has super weird hours and unreliable internet. I PROMISE that once I am back home and on a normal schedule again, I will get back to this! I finally was able to look at the comments people left on the last chapter, and they are so sweet and thoughtful. Thank you all so much!

As part of my apology, and to assure everyone that I AM working on a new chapter, here's a tiny little preview!!!

Alistair looked over the Assembly, “If there is anyone who objects to this sentence, speak now.”

A cloaked figure stepped out from behind a pillar and walked forward.

“I object,” Cullen called out in a clear voice, pushing the hood back from his face to a chorus of gasps.

If anyone bothered to look over at Varric, they would have seen him whip out a scroll and pen, and begin to scribble down notes at a furious pace.

“Cullen,” Alistair said softly, leaning forward with a cautious expression, “You shouldn’t be here. We took your testimony and there’s no reason for you to--”

Cullen held up his hand and interrupted, “Alistair, stop. I’m not a child who needs shielding from the world, I can judge my own emotions and make decisions myself. You would not be so hypocritical as to rob me of my agency to control my own decisions while a man is on trial for doing that very thing?”

Alistair stared at his friend’s raised eyebrows and grumbled, there would be no reasoning with him when he was in a mood like this...and his point was irritatingly valid.

“Fine,” Alistair sighed waving his hand before sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms, “have it your way. What is your objection?”


	13. The Trial

“Lord Pavus has made no attempt to deny his guilt in this matter, which prompts some amount of mercy on his part. Testimony has been heard, and the Assembly has spoken. The sentence of the Assembly is now put forward. We state that Lord Pavus shall be punished by the binding of his magic. His connection to the Fade, the source of our powers will be severed, and he will be in mind as the mortals of our lands. He will be banished from his lands and live in isolated penance on the Isle of Seheron.”

 

Dorian’s face goes white, and he is visibly shaking at the thought of this

 

Alistair looked over the Assembly, “If there is anyone who objects to this sentence, speak now.”

 

A cloaked figure stepped out from behind a pillar and walked forward.

 

“I object,” Cullen called out in a clear voice, pushing the hood back from his face to a chorus of gasps.

 

If anyone bothered to look over at Varric, they would have seen him whip out a scroll and pen, and begin to scribble down notes at a furious pace.

 

“Cullen,” Alistair said softly, leaning forward with a cautious expression, “You shouldn’t be here. We took your testimony and there’s no reason for you to--”

 

Cullen held up his hand and interrupted, “Alistair, stop. I’m not a child who needs shielding from the world, I can judge my own emotions and make decisions myself.”

 

Alistair stared at his friend’s raised eyebrows and grumbled, there would be no reasoning with him when he was in a mood like this. There is a brief, silent battle of wills between the two before Alistair relents.

 

“Fine,” Alistair sighed waving his hand before sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms, “have it your way. What is your objection?”

 

 

“I invoke the right of _per ministerium iustitiae_.”

 

Alistair stood from his chair, “Cullen, no. I can’t let you do that. He betrayed your trust and violated your rights, I will not let him stay in your presence.”

 

Cullen leveled his friend with a steely look, “Truly Alistair? Do you hear what you are saying? You claim to be my friend, and to wish justice be served to me. Yet, in response to a crime where my trust was betrayed and my right of choice removed from me, you deny me my right to choose the method of justice enacted on he who did me wrong, and appear to not trust me to be capable of having Lord Pavus in my presence without harm coming to me.”

 

“I—-ah…” Alistair flounders briefly, then walks down from his throne to gently take Cullen by the shoulders, “I’m sorry. You are right, if I use my powers to overrule your will, I’m no better a friend than he was.”

 

Cullen steps into Alistair’s arms for a brief hug, “It’s fine Alistair, you meant well.”

 

Dorian stares at Cullen, agape at this turn of events. He attempts to take a step towards Cullen, seeming to forget that he is bound until his chains snap him back.

 

Dorian coughs uncomfortably, “If I may ask, how long will this arrangement last? Just so I may make arrangements to insure that matters in the Underworld are organized to keep things running properly.”

 

Cullen puts a hand in his cloak. When he pulls his hand back out and opens it, there are three small red seeds cupped in his palm.

 

“When I was in your realm, I planted three of these seeds in the palace garden, curious to see if they would grow. They blossomed faster than they ever would in the mortal realm, no doubt as an effect of the lyrium in the soil.”

 

Cullen waves a hand, and the image of sapling, a few feet high, planted in an ornamental pot.

 

“This is the height of the trees now. I have moved them to my palace, and used my powers to freeze their growth. I will plant these seeds alongside, and when they reach the same height as the originals, your contract will end.”

 

Dorian arches an eyebrow and Cullen gives smile that almost looks bashful.

 

“It will probably take about half a year.”

 

“Thank you,” Dorian replies archly, “That’s far more useful.” 

 

“Very well. Allow me to quickly arrange affairs in the Underworld, gather some things, and then I am yours,” Dorian states, his voice laced with flirtatious undertones, holding out his hand.

 

Cullen blushes, but takes the hand. Alistair walks down from the dais and touches his staff to the hands. Ropes of glowing golden light entwine the joined hands.

 

“Listen all and let my final judgement be known! I hereby proclaim Dorian Pavus, Lord of the Underworld, guilty of the crime of using a drugged beverage to manipulate the thoughts of Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Harvest, robbing from his his ability to make properly informed and weighed decisions.”

 

The Inquisitor stood and took over speaking.

 

“Lord Pavus has fully admitted his guilt, making no attempts at falsity or prevarication. He accepts responsibility for his actions and the consequences they bring. Thus, the first act of atonement has been enacted, but fulfillment demands forgiveness on the part of the wronged party.”

 

“Lord Rutherford, do you accept the contrition of Lord Pavus and grant him forgiveness for the wrong he has done to you?”

 

Cullen turned and looked Dorian steadily in the eye.

 

“I do fully believe that Lord Pavus’ actions were not maliciously intended, and grant pardon for that offense. However, my heart demands that atonement be made unto myself for me to grant full forgiveness with clear spirit. I beseech the Assembly to grant me the right of _per ministerium iustitiae_ from Lord Pavus. I will take Lord Pavus into my service, to bow to me as lord and master until his debt is filled by assisting me in my work as Commander of the Harvest, paying back the time lost from my sacred duty as a result of his actions. I give my word not to abuse my powers, to in any way debase him or force him to act against his nature and conscience. If Lord Pavus does not accept this method of atonement, I will bow to the original ruling of the Assembly.”

 

“I…” Dorian hesitates, knowing this is his last chance to change his mind. He runs his eyes over Cullen’s face, searching for any sign that this is some sort of joke or trick. He detects no sign of malicious intent, but there has to be a catch. There is always a catch, it’s just a matter of time for this one to be exposed.

 

“I accept this contract and formally bind myself in service to Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Harvest, for the period of time he has set, or until he feels my debt is paid and grants me his forgiveness.”

 

The glow of the golden bonds grow brighter, until Dorian’s eyes burn from the sight of them, and then all at once they disappear, leaving only a lingering feeling of warmth behind.

 

“So it shall be,” Alistair says gravely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's curious, per ministerium iustitiae translates to "justice by service" in Latin.
> 
> Inspiration for the glowing hand-binding totally comes from Unbreakable Vows in HP, thank you JKR.
> 
> Huge thank you to everyone for not giving up on me! Your nice notes and long-distance love is absolutely what made this chapter (and all the formal legal-style talk) happen!


	14. The Golden Hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry this took forever! Hope it's worth the wait!

Dorian tilted his head back and forth, hoping that if he saw the dwelling before him from a different angle it would change form.

 

“This is your palace?” he asks again, with a judgemental point of his finger.

 

Cullen rolls his eyes, “Hall. It’s a hall. Palaces are for people with too much money, and nothing better to spend it on than architectural self-aggrandizing. You can sneer all you want, it serves my needs as a comfortable home. What more could I want?”

 

“Well for starters…” Dorian is cut off by a hand covering his mouth.

 

“No! No, that was not an invitation for criticism, you pampered peacock,” Cullen groans, sounding suspiciously more fond than offended. Dorian knows he should go into a tirade against both the treatment and the insult.

 

Instead, all he can muster up is an affronted bluster as he steps back from the hand.

 

“Well?” he demands, brushing imaginary dirt from his robes in an effort to feel more like himself, “I am assuming I have a room to stay in, and this is not just one giant barn where everyone sleeps together in piles under the tables once they have passed out from drink?”

 

Cullen rolls his eyes and starts climbing the stairs up the hill. Dorian makes sure to complain the entire climb up the hill, and to hide his shock when the light hit the previously unnoticed designs covering the exterior features of the hall, lighting them up in a blaze of gold. He chooses to ignore the smirk he catches on Cullen’s face when he is caught taking a closer look at the intricate carvings as they pass through the main doors.

 

The first thing Dorian registers about the Hall is the feeling of warmth that pervades through it. High windows let beams of sunlight shine in, making the wood of the floors glow the color of honey. The tall pillars along the hall were painted red, with more of the intricately knotted pattern from the door overlaying in gold. A fire pit blazed in the center of the hall, and sconces were evenly distributed so that no corner was bathed completely in darkness. Tables covered in food lined the halls, some also holding stacks of scrolls and a few books. The walls were lined with even more benches, one of which held what appeared to be a serving boy curled up asleep in the warmth of the fires. Along the wall hung vibrant tapestries depicting scenes of lush fields, mortals carrying out the harvest, feasts overflowing with the goods of the earth, and celebrations with bonfires and dancing. At the end of the hall, raised some steps above the rest, sat Cullen’s throne, draped with furs, the god’s symbol of a crossed sword and sickle hanging behind.

 

“Not quite the barn you were expecting?” Cullen teases him, leaning casually against a pillar with his arms crossed.

 

Dorian huffs and shakes his shoulders in a way that absolutely did not make him look like an offended peacock, no matter what Adaar told him. 

 

“Still rather rustic,” Dorian drawled, hoping that his affected ennui sounded convincing to Cullen, “but I will admit that it does have more amenities than I was expecting. I’ll have to wait and see if the people who reside here prove to also be surprisingly civilized.”

 

Cullen tosses his head back and laughed, “Maker, you just don’t give up, do you? This could have been a shining temple made of pure gold and you still would turn your nose up at it.”

 

Dorian couldn’t help but crack a smile, “What can I say? I only expect what I’m worth, therefore the standard is quite high.”

 

“Well, lets hope you at least deign your bedroom worthy of sleeping in, else you will have some very cold nights pouting in the hallway. This is not Minrathous,” Cullen stated, pushing off the pillar and crossing the room to a side door.

 

“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Dorion griped back in response, “It’s not exactly a secret that your Fereldan winters are cold.”

 

Cullen looked back, smirking, “I guarantee that whatever idea you have of a Fereldan does not come even close to the real thing. Here, this is your room.”

 

Cullen opens the door, and Dorian steps into a modestly-sized room. The wall across from the door sported a large fireplace, with a small wooden table and two chairs placed in front of it.  
The bed was to the right, large enough for two with small bedside chests on both sides. A thick wool rug beneath the bed would protect its occupant’s feet going from the warmth of the bed straight to the freezing stone floor. Cabinets along the walls near the bed would store clothes, and a small bench at the foot of the bed completed the right side of the room. To the left, a bookshelf stood against the wall next to the fireplace, a small selection of books taking up almost a half of the second shelf. Beyond the bookshelf there was a privacy screen and a small tub for washing, some small shelves for grooming products and a mirror in the same area. 

 

All things considered a surprisingly nice room. It seemed that Cullen put me in one of the nicer guest rooms, rather than in the servant’s quarters. A generous move, as this was supposed to be a punishment. What was the catch?

 

“It’s...much nicer than I was expecting, to be honest. Thank you. Might I inquire...am I to perform some of my duties of service here?”

 

Cullen stared, confused, for a moment before the implication of Dorian’s question hit him. 

 

“No! No!” Cullen protests, looking horrified at the suggestion, “Maker, Dorian...I wouldn’t bring you here to act as some sort of...I wouldn’t do that to anyone, but you especially….Why would you even think that?”

 

Dorian turns away, walking over to the bookshelf and inspecting the books to avoid having to look at Cullen.

 

“Well, I can’t imagine how my powers as Lord of the Dead would help serve you, and those services are the only other thing I have to offer.”

 

A warm hand falls on Dorian’s shoulder, but he resists its urging to turn.

 

Behind him, Cullen sighs, “Dorian, you can’t seriously think that.”

 

Dorian whips around, a red, twisted feeling rising up from his stomach.

 

“Oh, I can’t?” he hisses, “Thank you so much for informing me what I can and cannot think, that the way I’ve been thought of my whole life up until now was wrong. I’m so glad I have a knight in shining armor to swoop in and rescue me from the sinful disgrace I have been living in.”

 

Cullen steps back, raising his hands to try and pacify Dorian.

 

“Dorian, that’s not what I meant--” but he stops when Dorian’s anger drains out of him, his shoulders slumping, his eyes looking at the floor.

 

“Cullen, go,” Dorian pleads softly, “Just...go, please. I’ll find work to do. You don’t need to try and protect me from myself.”

 

He hears Cullen take in a breath to say something, then let it out slowly. Footsteps walk away, pause, then shut the door.

**Author's Note:**

> So I am going to give a head’s up that when I write for myself, I tend to leave things half-finished. It’s an awful habit, and part of why I never post my own stories. I tend to start them on my computer, and don’t want to post until they are finished, and then that never happens. I am trying posting this as I write it to see if it helps me actually finish something. Commenting to let me know people are reading it, and thus care if I finish, would be a huge motivator! I know how eagerly I wait for fics to get updated, so I’m hoping that guilt at keeping people waiting will work to keep me writing.
> 
> Anyways, I hope people like this!


End file.
